Scars
by astraplain
Summary: Florian has a scar on his hip.


Florian has a scar in the shape of a "v" on his left hip. Ray discovered it the first time he gave Florian a bath, the blond lying, unseeing and unresponsive in the warm bathwater.

The gentle movement of water as Ray washed him mimicked the movement of the ocean as Michel's ship carried them away from Morocco.

The last time Ray sailed away from his childhood home, he clung to the ship's rail long after the land was out of sight. This time he couldn't be away from the place soon enough and remained in his cabin with Florian as the ship set sail.

Florian was ill through the night, his seasickness made worse by his fragile state. Ray locked the door against Laila and cleaned up after Florian himself. Florian had been stripped of enough, Ray would do what he could to preserve some small measure of the man's dignity.

Between two and four in the morning was the most difficult time, when both men were restless and miserable, neither able to reach out to the other. In desperation, Ray ran a bath for his companion, knowing how the man enjoyed them and hoping it would soothe away some of the terrors that held Florian captive.

It was easy enough to undress him, a fact that surprised Ray given what Azura had done. And even if Ray had wanted to deny Azura's words, the truth was written on Florian's body. It was the bruises on Florian's wrists and hips that made Ray divert his eyes.

He should have known Azura wouldn't resist so rare a prize as Florian. Ray had never kept anything that Azura coveted. But then, Ray had never possessed anything he could deny his old friend until now.

The water was warm - not too hot - and fragrant with oil that Ray found in the cupboard. He eased Florian into the tub as if he were rare porcelain and began the painstaking task of washing away every bit of sick, dirt, and Azura.

There was a dusting of pale freckles across one shoulder and down Florian's back and a scattering of bruises and small cuts. Dark bruises circled his wrists with lighter ones on his upper arms. More marked his ankles and torso, including a set of hand-shaped marks on his upper thighs and hips.

Ray washed each one carefully, as if he could wash away the cause of each mark. They would fade, he knew. All except for the scars - the visible one on Florian's hip, and the unseen ones on his soul.

In other circumstances, Ray might have pressed a kiss to that scar, might have cajoled the story from Florian as they lay twined together, sated, in satin sheets. Instead, he laved it with rich lather and caressed it clean with a satin cloth.

*****

Years later, Florian had a new scar on his hip, a small furrow left by the bullet intended to end his life. Florian had moved just in time and his assailant had been the one to die in a dark alley. Ray finished the job without remorse and didn't let Florian look back when they left.

The wound bled for a long time and was sore for days - time in which Ray found many excuses to stay at Florian's side. It was only when the scab was gone, replaced by a line of imperfect flesh that Ray finally relaxed.

That night he prepared a bath scented with exotic oils and eased Florian into it. Ray coated his hands with lather and glided them across sensitive skin, paying special attention to the scars.

He now knew the v-shaped scar was the result of a fall from a horse onto a rocky path when Florian was twelve. Ray had caressed that scar many times since he first saw it. He'd kissed it, traced it with his fingers and tongue. He'd memorized the feel of it against his hand when they made love.

At one time he would have disliked the scar and its new companion. He would have objected to anything that marred Florian's perfect skin. But now he cherished it - like the flaws in an opal that made the stone more valuable, the scars made Florian more precious. Florian called them engravings - secrets that only Ray knew - like a private message hidden inside a ring.

Ray leaned down to kiss the new scar and Florian lifted up to make it easier. His eyes were soft and bright as he tangled his hand in Ray's hair. There was no need for words - all Ray needed to know could be found in a those eyes and in a pair of scars.

::end::


End file.
